Slaved Bride

She wagged her tail again at him, the dusky dark ash at the end sweeping back and forth behind her. He called her a fairy. What delight! Teas, herbs, and gems did seem rather fairy-inspired! She squinted happily at him as he indulged her passions. Perhaps they could run many gathering ventures together!

Her question made him thoughtful and she watched the expressions shuffle through his face like the waves on a beach. He was surprised, then thoughtful, she grew concerned as a muscle in his jaw clenched tightly in consternation. He bid her not to worry, but the gentle furrow in her brow said she would do no such a thing.

As she laid on her back beside him, she reached up a paw to gently stoke his cheek, "My love, as your bride, is it not now my purpose to worry over you?" She asked gently in French, wishing to caress his dark cheek.